DNA Infected
by Cynikid
Summary: A mostly western european medieval setting, with Pokémon (widely utilized as weapons) existing along with regular animals. Rated T for varying amounts of swearing and gore.
1. Chapter 1

I struggled to drag my broken body through the dust. My dark hair was covered in sand, and my brown eyes turned white as all things from puddles to flames and craters on a once green land blurred before them. The few Pokémon and soldiers still alive had barely any strength to fight, let alone to be bothered by some other dying man.

" Guh... Hehe... Pitiful… 'tis the end? Nah… I still must know why… It…" I whispered, for as difficult as it was, it kept dragging me further away. I tried getting rid of my old sword, it's weight seemingly double the normal, but that got me even more tired.

I took a glimpse at the Zangoose that attacked me. Its master, frozen and shattered by my Weavile; as for himself, hit by a single, accurate Flame Wheel, the White fur made as black as an Umbreon's …

I did see one of those, y' know. I've been willing to catch an Eevee ever since, though it's hard to come across a Pokéball these days. Since That happened... Since that day, both Berries and Apricorns stopped growing were they were supposed to grow the most. Infected, my village was. I just watched, motionless, as they screamed and acquired shades of green and orange, giving more and more resemblance to It…

The memories faded, 'til I almost blacked out. There was barely any blood trickling through my wounds now. I kept crawling, but out of hatred. To know just why It did not attack me.

_Ann gets close to breaking the house's door as she enters, panting, with a desperate look and tone of voice:  
><em>"_Andrew, run aw… _" _Her saying is abruptly interrupted when she's violently dragged outside again, by what appeared to be a tentacle. Going beyond the door, I watch them run for their lives, often realizing it was useless. "It" turns around. Disappears for but an instant, pops up inches in front of my terrified face, gazes my eyes for the longest second in my life and vanishes... Ann and the others lay on the ground. Dead. While crying as never before - and I swore afterwards that as never again - I repeat the same thing:  
><em>

"_I'll find It… I'll find It… I'll fi..._" _And then I just sobbed._

_Battlegorunds take the place of the dead village and I feel a lancinating pain after an enemy Slash:  
>-Gah... Weavile, Ice Punch!<br>My partner charges at the Zangoose, protected at the last second by its trainer._

Instead of mem'ries, the Dark. My body lied at the wasteland.

"I... I died? 'sit so?" I felt there was still life in me, although it slowly but surely kept on leaving.

"No. Not yet. " A bizarre voice echoed from the blackness all around.

"Who...? It couldn't be…"

"Darkrai. I may speak with thou through thy dreams; or better, the nightmare thou revivest. " Chills would be running down my spine at this point, were I conscient enough. Or I'd just have given a smart-ass reply and get put out of my misery. Hey, either of those sounds plausible.

"What are you going to do? "

"Thou art afraid, I feel, but only rid of fear shalt thou fulfill thy destiny."

Darkrai gave that single piece of "advice", and there was, suddenly, light... I was regaining my consciousness. Perfect timing, huh?

"W-what's happening? Where are we? " I'd ask, disturbed by the sayings of who we'd call Nightmare, back in the village.

"Let us meet again..." Went away the voice in the void. It all turned brighter and brighter by the second...

"Huh... I AM alive... But... Darkrai... - I lost myself in thoughts for a while – ...what's my destiny..? Huh? – I looked down as I noticed I moved – Oh... Typhlosion…".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Of Two Beginnings

"_Thou art afraid, I feel, but only rid of fear shalt thou fulfill thy destiny."  
><em>

Darkrai's words still resounded in my head when I woke up in a wooden hospital wing. My wounds had been properly bandaged. Two sets of brand new, folded clothes stood upon an old ebony desk, next to my pokéballs, and my armor was hanging on the wall, a few meters away. The other patients weren't nearly as hurt as I had been. Some infected wounds and minor diseases only (except for one poor bastard that had bandages everywhere other than his right eye). There was a blonde kid sitting by my bed, leaning his chair back and forth, looking distractedly through the window, smiling.

"And you are?" He looked just short of 14 years of age.

The boy seemed like he snapped off a trance.

"Oh, you've finally woken up. I found you passed out with your Typhlosion, near the city. It was probably too tired to carry you all the way...

I then remembered the battle and the little talk I had afterwards.

"Where the hell are we, anyways?"

"Goldenrod. Those Kanto soldiers really messed you up, but I brought you here and they treated your wounds." The kids' smile broadened even more, so much it looked like his face was about to split in two. "I'm volunteering here, unti-"

"Everyone's leaving Johto out of fear of being caught in the middle of a battle... You got either some guts or have gone completely mad, staying here... "

I was worried for the kid. And, of course, every one currently in Goldenrod. The last battle… there were tens of thousands of Kanto soldiers. The problem wasn't their numbers were greater (we had just as many men), but that so far, the only leverage _we_ had were numbers, against their ability. They had likely gathered all their forces to try and take over Goldenrod. How we fended them off was beyond me. I assumed that the Johto force gathered at Olivine was moving to take back Ecruteak as we spoke, and next would be Mahogany.

"If the worse happens, I have my Pokémon. In less than one year, I can enlist." He then returned to his chair-leaning and dreamy eyes.

"Tell me then, '_future soldier_', did anyone else… Y' know…"

"From what I hear, only a few from Kanto left alive. I'm… sorry." He seemed like he actually _was_, although there was not one good reason for him to be. He had nothing to do with dying soldiers (yet, anyways). "And why the sarcasm?" That goofy smile slowly faded as he heard the answer:

"I remember the time when I referred to 'being a soldier' like you did just now..." I smirked, though I was somewhere between sad and disgusted with what I just mentioned. "The dream job, ennet? To live fighting for the land, seeking glory and eventually dying with both in some big battle or another, being martyrized... What I learned from time and experience, do see, is that the land doesn't give a damn, there's no honor in seeing the bodies of who fought with you be butchered and drop to the ground, and _those_ certainly realized just a moment before their end that there was no glory in dying like that. War is Hell, if you'd rather the short version."

He looked at me fixedly for a while, a bit dazed. He opened his mouth to say something, but left without further words.

I took while to think about what I was going to do now. My superiors by now must have concluded that I was dead like the rest of whoever they sent to that suicidal mission. It was near That day of the year… aye, I'd head back home for That day.

I gathered my goods (except for the armor. Bad memories. I did take my sword, however) in a leather drawstring bag that was under the folded clothes, and pulled open a drawer of the ebony desk. I found ink, a pen, and paper, eventually. I wrote a few words on it, folded it in half, put it in my bag and went outside without even changing into my new clothes.

The walks in Goldenrod, at least near the hospital, were of concrete, with a few holes for trees to grow. The streets were unusually empty for the capital. Most of the houses were brick, but there were some wooden ones, too. I was halfway through the hospital's yard, and then that boy shouted, from the door I just came through:

"Y-You're wrong! My father... Passed honorably... He died… For a reason…"

So that was it. Nice job, Andrew. I could tell he wanted to cry (or had already), fists clenched and red eyes, but I hadn't much time to look at him, as he launched a Pokéball up in the air. Out came a Noctowl, which then dived in the air, straight at me. But it came so. Darn. Slowly. I closed my eyes and grinned for a moment (this time, for actual amusement). Thomas didn't even see that Weavile was out when it stopped Noctowl dead with his left hand. With his free arm he obeyed:

"Ice Punch."

I said the words with the coldness that knocked the bird down. Weavile then went for the boy, knocking him down and putting his claws against his neck. I walked to where they were and returned my Pokémon to the apricorn.

I took a moment to just look at his terrified face, and then another to explain:

"Where you wanna be, I wouldn't bother with the Noctowl, and wouldn't content myself with _scratching_ your neck." I sighed. "What your dad did doesn't concern me, but what _I_ say about war are the _facts_." I grabbed his arm and helped him up "Ah, well. If you get in the army or not is out of my hands, but if you do, just…" I grinned yet again. "Don't _tell_ people you're going to attack them out of blue, it ruins the element of surprise."

Just before I turned around to leave, he got _another_ pokéball, only this time he just stretched his arm towards me.

"Have it. I captured a Skarmory but it wouldn't obey me... Maybe you need something like this, i-in whichever battle you're sent to next."

That stutter, right there. He was feeling like garbage right now. Lohan would tell him "Suck it up, that's a part of growing up.". I couldn't.

I looked at the Pokéball, then at the kid, then again at the Ball, a little dazed by the change of attitude.

"I ain't a soldier no more, kid. Save that for when _you _are."

I opened a smile (not a grin or a smirk, an actual _smile_) like I didn't in ages and left for the North Goldenrod exit.

"_HEY_! What the hell are you doing?"

I actually stopped for a couple of seconds.

"I think it's pretty clear that I am walking, lad."

"Wh-where are you going, you bas-"

After sadness, came anger (or, if you rather, blaming others for your own failure), as always.

"Telling you now, you wouldn't understand. I get the feeling we won't be meeting again, so I'll just say I'll stop at Violet City. Just tell me, what's your name?"

"…."

He took too long to reply, so I started moving again, and lifted my hand in goodbye. I was able to hear a faint "Thomas" as I did.

To the first soldier that crossed my eyes, I delivered the piece of paper folded in half (that would be enough to get me arrested, were the guard a little smarter).

So I left for Violet, leaving a kid let down by reality, and a soldier not quite sure I had written "I quit" (took him a while to figure out _what_ I was quitting too, I imagine). Damn, this job is much better than being a soldier.


End file.
